


The Art of Taking Action

by Pollydoodles



Series: The Wider Pizza-Verse [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6062089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollydoodles/pseuds/Pollydoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey buddy. Nice walk?” Steve asked, not looking up from his paper as Bucky threw himself bodily into the couch next to him, Lucky flopping to the floor at their feet moments after. </p><p>Bucky grunted and Steve popped a grin, still not looking over at him. He flipped the page and continued to read, bringing his coffee cup to his lips as he did so. </p><p>“Steve?”</p><p>“Yeah, Buck.”</p><p>A pause. Steve continued to read, waiting patiently on Bucky to continue when he was ready. Sometimes he took a while to speak, even if he wanted to, and Steve was used to waiting on him. The words needed to be pulled together, arranged, checked, maybe checked again, before he could let them out. He was still getting used to being his own person, being allowed to have his own thoughts. It was important to him not to waste them, to make sure they were right. </p><p>“Is Darcy my girlfriend?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Taking Action

“Hey buddy. Nice walk?” Steve asked, not looking up from his paper as Bucky threw himself bodily into the couch next to him, Lucky flopping to the floor at their feet moments after. 

Bucky grunted and Steve popped a grin, still not looking over at him. He flipped the page and continued to read, bringing his coffee cup to his lips as he did so. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck.”

A pause. Steve continued to read, waiting patiently on Bucky to continue when he was ready. Sometimes he took a while to speak, even if he wanted to, and Steve was used to waiting on him. The words needed to be pulled together, arranged, checked, maybe checked again, before he could let them out. He was still getting used to being his own person, being allowed to have his own thoughts. It was important to him not to waste them, to make sure they were right. 

“Is Darcy my girlfriend?”

Steve promptly choked on his coffee and spilt a good deal of it over the newspaper. 

“Uh- I mean- Jeez, Buck.” He stuttered, falling over his words as they tumbled out of his mouth. He caught Bucky’s face, staring back at him seriously and stopped himself. Steve took a breath and tried to collect his thoughts. “Honestly, I don’t know if I can answer that, pal.” He gave Bucky a curious look, his head tilted to one side, considering his friend. “Where did this come from, anyway?”

Bucky dropped his eyes from Steve’s and traced a finger in circles on his own knee before answering. 

“Stark said-“

Steve groaned. “Ah, Buck. Remember rule number one?” He gestured across to the handwritten page taped firmly to the fridge at eye-height. Darcy’s scribble laced across the paper, listing an alarming amount of different rules. Ostensibly for Bucky’s benefit, it made reference to things like remembering when to eat, acceptable amounts of shampoo use – Steve had insisted on that one – where to drop off dirty laundry, where to find clean laundry (also Steve’s addition). 

Rule number one, however, was written in capital letters at the top of the page, took up three lines and was underscored twice. 

DO NOT LISTEN TO TONY. 

“Yeah…” Bucky said slowly, glancing at the list. “I remember.” 

“Look,” Steve said awkwardly, not knowing what Tony had said and not really wanting to get into it with Bucky. Stark created more issues than he solved, and Steve had a long held belief that the other man preferred things that way. Appealed to his sense of dramatics. Idiot should have been an actor, not a superhero, Steve grumbled to himself. 

“Look, Buck,” he tried again, and brilliant blue eyes were suddenly trained on him, drinking him in and Steve felt an awful, crushing, pressure to not fuck it up. He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair, thinking that he didn’t currently have a great track record in not-fucking-it-up. Or possibly had ever had a brilliant history of getting things right. 

He sighed, and decided on the only thing he could absolutely say for certain was true. 

“Just, don’t listen to Tony.” 

*****  
Darcy had successfully managed to avoid any more awkward conversations with co-workers for 24 glorious hours. She had absolutely not been hiding from other people and there was no truth to the frankly ugly rumour that she’d opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator in order to not share it with Tony. 

She entered the common room cautiously, and Lucky padded after her, nose bumping gently into the backs of her legs so closely was he following her. She dropped a hand to her side and petted his head absent-mindedly, earning herself a soft whine and a wet nose pushed into her palm. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “I’m getting the kibble, alright?”

Lucky woofed happily and, turning as she walked, she arched an eyebrow at him in response. Pointing a finger and bumping the end of his nose with it, she huffed “You, dog, are way smarter than you let on. I’m onto you, don’t think I’m not.” Lucky, fully aware that Darcy was not quite as much of a pushover as Bucky, plopped his ass to the tiles and grinned up at her, pink tongue lolling carelessly from the side of his mouth. 

“Hmmmm.” She said. “Don’t pull that butter-wouldn’t-melt stuff on me, mister. I know better. I know you.” Earning herself no reaction at all, she huffed and turned her back to him to drop to her knees in front of the kitchen cupboard. Pulling open the door, she hunted for the sack of dog food she knew she’d made Bucky put in there two days ago. 

“Gotta be in here, surely you’ve not eaten all that in two days…” She mumbled to herself under her breath, hauling stuff out of the way. “If you have, we need words, dog. And you’re going on a diet” She threatened. Lucky lay himself flat against the tiled floor and body-shuffled his way across until he was lying flat next to her. He didn’t believe the threat. She liked him too much to do that. 

Didn’t she?

Lucky tilted his head to one side and pawed at Darcy’s thigh. She ruffled the back of his neck without looking and he settled back down to the floor, wedged up beside her as close as he could manage without actually sitting in her lap. Jeez, this dog wants human contact even more than Bucky, she thought, fleetingly, and ignored the sharp stab of longing that flashed through her bones at the thought of the dark-haired man. 

“God what is even in here?” Darcy said out loud, still not finding what she was looking for but somehow pulling out instead a folded portable ironing board and a partially deflated beach-ball. She threw them behind her in disgust. 

“Darcy?” 

She reacted, not expecting anyone else, and jerked her head up. A hollow thump followed by a loud curse had Steve falling to his knees and cradling her head in his arms. She whimpered and rubbed her head as he patted her back reassuringly. 

“Sorry, Darce – didn’t mean to startle you.” He apologised. 

“S’fine.” She said, knowing it was her own stupid fault for being so jumpy. She pulled back and squinted up at him, his earnest and open face gazing back at her, concern still etched across it. “Seriously – I hit my head. It’s not like I got shot, Rogers.” 

“Don’t joke about that.” He said, warningly, and she thumped him in the bicep. She wasn’t sure he even really noticed her doing it, but it at least made her feel slightly better. 

*****  
Bucky paced. 

It was unlike him to do so, most often taking comfort in being still, a hangover from his sniper training which had bred into his soul the moment of clarity and purpose before making a shot. However, by now he’d seen this in many of the movies that Darcy had settled with him to watch and it seemed like the appropriate action to take. 

Stark had called Darcy his girlfriend.   
Steve did not know if Darcy was his girlfriend.   
Bucky also did not know if Darcy was his girlfriend. 

That made two against and one for; and that, then, was a statistic. Bucky knew a little about statistics. Darcy worked with numbers, and had informed him that trends in data were Very Important Things. Trends meant that some things were more likely than other things. 

Trends meant that Darcy was probably not his girlfriend. 

That pulled him up short. 

*****

“So.” Steve said awkwardly, pushing a hand through his hair and sitting back against the kitchen counter. They were still sat on the floor, Darcy now propped up against the opposite cupboard, Lucky unable to choose between them and so sprawled awkwardly across both sets of legs. Darcy thought he couldn’t possibly be comfortable, but his tail was still wagging lazily. 

“I know you don’t wanna talk about it-“

“Then don’t?” She cut across him.

“-But you really need to.” He finished, a determined look appearing on his face which made Darcy sigh. Sam called it his Captain America face, and insisted it should be registered as a lethal weapon, being the one he pulled out as a last resort because no one could fail to do what he wanted when he turned it on them. 

Darcy grimaced. Sam was right, as usual. She stared at Lucky, who had now turned and was sleeping with all four paws suspended in the air, half of him on her legs and the other half across Steve’s. She chewed her bottom lip and traced a circle on her thigh before she answered, and Steve was hit in the heart by a sense of deja-vu so strong it made him inhale strongly and clench his hands into fists. 

It reminded him exactly of Bucky earlier, before he’d looked straight at him and asked if Darcy was his girlfriend. 

“What do you want me to say?” She asked quietly, and big blue eyes were suddenly fixed on his. They had an odd shine to them, a glassiness that belied her otherwise calm countenance. She shrugged with a half-laugh, and he thought he might have caught a sob squashed in the back of her throat. “That I love him? That I’m in love with him? Sure. I’ll say it, you can hear it.”

Steve smiled at her, at her words, and wanted to cup her cheek in his hand as she spoke. 

“But then what?” Her voice cracked slightly. “Then what, Steve?”

*****

He wanted Darcy. 

He couldn’t quite figure out the logistics of it, thought that maybe that was beyond him right now, but he knew he didn’t want her to go away. He knew that, even though his nightmares had lessened considerably, he still wanted to feel her warmth next to him at night, that it helped him into a calmer sleep than he could ever remember having. 

He knew that feeling her hand on his arm, that gentle pressure, could bring him back from the terrifying cliff edge in his mind, that precipice that existed between what passed for normality and a black abyss where he’d forget even his own name. He knew that coming back to himself and seeing her face, not judging him, when he hadn’t been able to stop himself falling over that edge was one of the most important things he could ever see. 

He knew that he needed her. Like in the movies they watched, tumbled together in a tangle of limbs, blankets and popcorn; that he wanted her to always be there. 

He thought that he’d like to kiss her. To taste her lips and to make her smile against him. He thought that would be nice, that maybe Darcy might like that too. He’d watched her watching impossibly handsome men embrace beautiful girls on the screen, seen her breath hitch and her eyes soften as the leading man whispered something loving before capturing the girl’s mouth with his own. 

Bucky thought maybe he could do that. 

*****  
“He’s not ready.” She shook her head.

“He’s doing great,” Steve protested. “Because of you.” He added, insistently, capturing one hand in his own and squeezing it softly. 

“He’s doing … Better.” Darcy conceded. “But he’s got a long way to go, Steve. A hell of a long way.”

Steve hung his head. “Okay.” He said, heavily. “Okay. Just – do me a favour, alright? As my friend.” He looked at her seriously and she nodded back to him. “Don’t write him off. Not like that. Just … Wait and see.”

Darcy laughed, aware it was the wrong reaction but not really knowing what the right one was. Steve regarded her patiently. She pushed Lucky off her legs and he rolled over, still seemingly asleep. Darcy scrambled to her feet, leaving Steve on the floor.   
“I have to- I have to go.” She stuttered. Steve looked back at her, the Captain America look creeping across his face again as he regarded her. She ran a hand through her hair and breathed out heavily. “Okay – I promise. I promise.”

Steve reached out and touched her ankle briefly, the heat of his unnaturally warm hand feeling like it burned across her skin as he did so. Darcy nodded briefly, then fled. Steve, sighing to himself, ruffled Lucky’s ears and remained sitting. 

*****

Darcy made it back to her room, thankfully without bumping into anyone else, and flung the door shut before leaning against the wall and panting hard. It took her a moment to realise that she wasn’t alone. 

“Bucky?” Darcy looked up as he hove into sight, and kept coming until his head was bent down towards her own, dark hair lay against her forehead and arms formed a cage around her body, braced against the wall. She looked up at him in confusion, back pressed against the brick and his own body now tight against hers. 

Darcy opened her mouth but couldn’t find words to push out of it to save her life. She wasn’t entirely sure, trapped against the wall and pushed up against Bucky; that she wanted to save her life. In fact, mouth still hanging open slightly and her breath mingling with Bucky’s, his face so close to hers, she thought that she might be happy just to die right on the spot. 

Bucky’s eyes flickered over her face, taking in everything but making no further movement. Darcy swallowed hard. She managed to close her mouth, and wiggled her hands up and placed her hands flat on his chest. She wasn’t sure whether she was trying to push him away or just to feel closer to him. 

She should push him away. 

She should definitely push him away.

She was a – mostly – responsible adult, and Bucky was a recovering PTSD sufferer who wasn’t even close to being able to function in the real world. She should absolutely, definitely, conclusively push him away. 

Bucky leaned closer, as if that were possible, and brushed his lips lightly against hers. Unwittingly, Darcy closed her eyes at the touch, and arched her back into him. He sucked in a deep breath and brought his lips more firmly against hers. There was still hesitation, still caution, yet he slid the tip of his tongue carefully against her lower lip and claimed her as she opened for him. 

This is wrong, it’s wrong, it’s gonna go wrong, the voice of reason in her head chanted on a loop but she couldn’t do anything else but melt into his embrace and kiss him back. It was seconds, mere seconds really, before he pulled away and she leaned back against the wall, glad beyond belief for its support. Had she been freestanding she would almost certainly have been on the floor. Breathing hard, lips still pink and wet from his attention, she gazed up at him. 

Bucky stared back at her, hair covering his face and hanging in front of his eyes. She could see his chest heaving, and a slow pink blush colouring his cheeks. He dropped his hands from where they’d been braced against the wall, either side of her shoulders and she let her hands fall from his chest, mirroring him. 

He pushed a shaking hand through his shaggy hair, fingers catching slightly in the tangle. Eyes dropping from her, he took a step backwards and turned on his heel. Darcy, still unable to make her legs move or her mouth make recognisable sounds, watched him leave almost as silently as he’d arrived.


End file.
